In Memoriam of His Heart
by Roma-Nana
Summary: Even after his brief period of bliss, he's alone once again.


Hello,

Most likely someone will read this, knowing how nosey people can be.

Yet again I could be wrong.

Though it does not matter.

This is for me, not for you or for anyone else.

This is not a note of love for anyone you may be thinking of either.

No words of affection for anyone in particular.

No vows of marriage, or of sweet-nothings.

Why say such things when there is no one willing to receive them?

I have no one now.

Though it was only one person to start with, I had nothing else as an alternative.

No friend.

No family.

No loved one.

No one to come back to at the end of the day.

I'm alone;

Very alone.

In this room I sleep at night, a bed big enough for two.

But there is only one.

One.

Alone in bed.

Alone.

...

I used to have someone, until very recently.

And now that he has gone, I have not much of a resolve to survive other than my people.

Times are bleak for me.

Without him to bring light into my life there isn't much to look forward to.

Not personally anyway.

Never personally.

I'm not exactly a personal person.

Nothing in the dark is really worth looking forward to.

What can you see in the dark, anyway?

Not much.

No love.

No light.

Nothing.

Except myself, perhaps. Yes, that sounds about right.

I see myself in the darkness.

It's very fitting, if you know enough about the situation.

But you probably don't so I won't bother to tell you.

You aren't very interested I'm sure.

Again, this is a reminder for myself; it is not something for you to be interested in.

Put this down and walk away.

Walk away from the disaster you should know nothing about.

Leave the darkness and go to your happy life,

And leave me in the dark to dwell alone.

Like he has done.

Leave.

...

Now that everyone is gone, I don't have to babble.

Or keep any of it vague.

Who is here to see it anyway?

No one but myself and perhaps the mirror on my wardrobe.

Don't let them see.

It's a burden.

A weakness.

You shouldn't let anyone see how much it hurts.

How alone you are.

How alone I am.

This is a promise to lock it away.

If I am in the dark, I can at least keep everyone else in the dark about what lurks in me.

Bury it even further down than my feelings.

Further than the memories will go, which are still very fresh even now.

Bury them and smother them.

Tie the end of my single attachment.

My single bond;

My strongest one.

The one that was severed by bright dreams that sore through the skies.

Through bright blue skies of cerulean.

Bright and clear, not dull and clouded,

Like the cloud ridden sky, or the rain that pounded down on my being that day.

The day everything fell.

It cut like a knife,

Or perhaps stabbed like the end of a bayonet;

that sounds more appropriate.

I had a hard time accepting he was gone.

I wouldn't allow him to go.

I refused.

But it had already happened, so I couldn't do much about it.

I tried to fight the reality of it all, but there is no way to do it.

No way to sew up the gap;

To reverse the damage.

Nothing.

There is nothing I could do but give in.

No matter how much my heart screamed for me to keep fighting for him.

Tell him not to go.

My voice couldn't bring it to fruition.

Later on, I signed the papers.

Instead of shredding them like I had wanted to so badly.

The only thing that got shredded that day was my fragile, flimsy little heart.

The one most believe I do not have.

My feeble paper heart.

...

I hope they continue to believe that.

Continue believing that I am heartless, and that I have no conscience.

Because if they don't they will walk all over me.

And after being brought so low by the one I had raised up, all that is left to save is my pride.

My power.

My cruelty.

My vast empire.

Because my heart is slowly dying.

But I'll let it die; let it die so I can survive through these lonely years without him.

It's already been a few empty years.

I'm surprised I had survived so long before he had come along.

Survives centuries void of so many things.

Void of happiness.

Void of laughter.

Void of dreams,

And of love.

I cannot stand living like such again.

So I will close my own wounds.

Stop my feelings and my blood from running free.

Like I said, there isn't much to save but my empire.

I intend to make sure I don't lose anymore.

I've done plenty of horrible things in my life.

I've managed to keep him from finding out about any of them thus far.

I plan to keep it that way; for things in the past and for what will come in the future.

It should be much easier now that he is gone.

He won't hear the sobs,

Or the screams.

He won't hear the pleading emotions clawing at the cold walls inside my heart that was believed to have gone stone cold.

Like a prison cell with bars to keep in my despair along with everything else.

There is no need for such things in my life.

All I've needed was him.

But now he is gone, so my only option is to disappear.

Disappear in death, or into myself.

I've chosen the latter, as you can see.

I am still too proud to die.

I will not die.

I've definitely had the thought, but I can't bring myself to do it.

It's the end of my heart,

But it will _not_ be the end of me.

I will be around forever.

My being won't disappear.

Even with a gaping hole in my chest,

And nothing but a sword in hand that only wishes to grasp another loving hand within it.

An empty man, that only wishes to be filled.

Not filled with self-hate,

But with another's love;

The love of another, who he has seen grow and prosper.

The one that has continued to smile and prosper without him.

The one with so much love to give; love so addicting and youthful.

It's all I've wanted.

But I've been cut off.

Cut off and left to wither, like a flower cut from its stem.

So I will cut my heart out.

Let the blood be the flowing ink on this piece of parchment.

Leave it to rot and shrivel alone.

Much like he has done to me.

But I will look as strong and vibrant as ever.

I will not die, and neither will my power.

...

I only pray, that one day he will return to me.

But I don't expect it.

- _Arthur Kirkland_


End file.
